Part of the Job
by Shugs
Summary: Sitting behind the wheel of his car in the parking lot of the Harvelle Roadhouse, John comes to the realization that sometimes, the hardest part of the job, has nothing to do with the actual hunt. Bill's dead, it's his fault & now he needs to tell Ellen.


Set before the series.  
>I've never read any of the hunters journals that go with the show, so this fic is based on some of the info from season two, and season two alone... keep that in mind.<p>

Part of the Job

The storm he had raced over the state line was now growling in the distance, finally catching up to him as he tried to work up the nerve he needed, to go knock on the door. He drove eighteen hours straight just to be there, but now that he was parked in her driveway, staring at that back porch light, he couldn't bring himself to step out of the damn car. What the Hell was he supposed to tell her anyway? That there had been an accident? That the hunt hadn't gone like they had planned? He had miles and hours to think about it, but still he hadn't been able to find the words he was looking for.

He swallowed hard, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as his gaze drifted down to the small metal box on the seat beside him, its contents a typical mix of what could be found in the pockets of any hunter; a fake ID, a book of matches, a gun with a clip of silver bullets, a silver switchblade, a small Iron knife, a wallet, a rosary and a lock pick. These where all things he kept in his own pockets, tools of the trade that set men like them, apart from those walking the streets alongside them. Every hunter was aware of the risks, that was just part of the job, but what he couldn't quite get over, was the fact that he was the one who'd asked for the other man's help... he was the one who got him involved.

His heart hit the bottom of his stomach as his gaze drifted to the wedding ring on his finger, the guilt almost overwhelming him right then and there as he thought of the job that had cost another man his life. He had lost friends in the past, he had gone through this many times before, but tonight it was different, tonight it hit close to home. When the growl of thunder pulled him away from his scattered thoughts, he grabbed the small box from the seat beside him and finally stepped out of the car. It was time to bite the bullet, he'd waited long enough and if the right words hadn't come to him yet, he knew they wouldn't be coming to him at all.

The walk across the empty parking lot was hard, but not nearly as difficult as the climb up those few back steps proved to be. With his heart in his throat and his mind still in a fog, he reached out to knock, pausing as he watched the kitchen light turn on inside... she had been waiting, he'd been expected home by now. His breath caught in the back of his throat as the door pulled open and their eyes met, she looked surprised to see him standing there. Alone.

"John." She started, her gaze momentarily drifting off into the empty parking lot behind him.

He knew what she was looking for and it broke his heart. "Hi Ellen." He managed, swallowing hard as she offering him a smile he knew he would more than likely never see again.

"You've got a heavier foot than I thought if you managed to beat Bill back into town." She started cheerfully. "Come on in and I'll get you a nice cold one while we wait." She said, holding the door open as she waited for him to step inside.

"No thanks, I'm not going to stay." He quietly replied, thinking back to the first time he had pulled up to the Harvelle Roadhouse. He didn't know it back then, but walking into that rundown bar would prove to be one of the best things he could have ever done.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, the reply he'd just given her instantly raising red flags. "Doesn't take much to see when there's something on your mind..."

There was a moment of silence and John couldn't help but feel his heart hit the bottom of his stomach all over again. He drove eighteen hours straight just so he could be there, but it was the very last place he wanted to be at that moment ."Ellen, I came here to tell you that Bill isn't... Bill isn't coming home." He stammered, his voice barely above a whisper as he watched her gaze drift down to the small metal box he was cradling in his arms. "I'm sorry."

She only had to take one glance at it to know what this meant; it was the equivalent of a three AM phone call from the police, or a carefully folded flag in the hands of a soldier. "No..." She started, her heart sinking like a stone as he passed her the metal box. His hands were shaking just as much as hers were and when she looked back up to catch his eyes, she couldn't help but notice the tears. She shook her head, unable to accept what he'd just told her. This wasn't real, they must have split up and John had simply jumped to conclusions... any minute now Bill's old truck would pull into that parking lot, just like it always did. Though her mind was racing, searching for a reasonable explanation, deep down she knew it was for real; and when John reached into a pocket to pull out her husband's wedding ring, there was no hope left for her to hang onto.

John sucked in a breath as he watched her reluctantly reach for the ring, her hand shaking and her eyes filling with tears as the news that she was now a widowed mother, hit hard. "Ellen I'm so sorry." He repeated, unable to think of anything else he could possibly say to soften what he knew was one Hell of a blow.

"What happened?" She asked, wiping the tears from her eyes before sliding her husband's wedding band onto one of her fingers. She'd married into it, despite his many warnings, so although she knew a day like this would eventually come, never did she imagine it would be so soon. "John I want to know what happened, were you there with him?"

John gave her a nod, the events leading up to the other man's death so vivid, he could still smell the machine oil & kerosene that had lingered in the air. "We tracked the thing down to an old industrial building, in Devil's Gate Reservoir, California." He started softly, pausing for only a moment as he took a deep breath, the sound of the chains hitting the floor resonating in his head. "I cut the lock off the door to get in, we sat and waited for it all night but it never did show; It must have known we were around. I told Bill that when I first started tracking it, I noticed that all the victims were already injured... minor stuff, but cuts deep enough to draw blood. So then he..." John trailed off as his mind drifted back to the warehouse, back to the very moment that Bill pulled out a silver blade. "...he sliced into his own arm, said that if the thing fed on the injured, fresh blood should be enough to lure it out. We split up, Bill stayed out in the open while I hid and waited for the Hell spawn to show up." John continued as he swallowed hard, the choices they both made that night now haunting him, and him alone. "Wasn't long after we could both hear it walking around, in the darkness... Bill pointed me to his left, so I loaded my gun and waited, then it just stepped out of the shadows behind him. I emptied my clip into the thing but the one I was staring at, wasn't the same one Bill was looking at. There were two of them, Ellen. I swear I didn't know that there was two of them." John trailed off as he watched her wipe the tears from her eyes; she was one of the strongest women he knew, and to see her like this, tore him apart.

"What happened next, John." She pushed, needing to know the final moments of her husband's life, despite the toll it was taking on the man who'd witnessed it all.

"It... the other one grabbed him before he even got the chance to pull out his gun, and I had the time to reload mine... By the time I took the shot it was too late, Bill was... he was fatally wounded." John paused for only a moment as the sight of the other man lying in a pool of his own blood, his chest ripped to shreds, flashed in the back of his mind. "I went to him but there was nothing I could do." He continued, his eyes closing as his mind played out the vivid scene once again; he could still hear his footsteps echo as he made his way towards the other man, still feel the blood on his hands as he held his friend's head up so he could speak. Just the thought of that moment made the breath catch in the back of his throat, Ellen didn't need to know all the painful details. "Bill told me to tell you... that he loves you, you and Joanna Beth."

"I don't understand how this could have happened, how could you have not known there were two of them?" Ellen asked, trying to make sense of the accident that had cost her husband his life. "You're a good tracker John, and he was a great hunter, one of the best I've seen in a long time."

"I know he was great hunter." John replied quietly, the guilt starting to surface. "That's why I asked him for his help..."

"You what?" She asked, the tone of her voice changing in an instant.

The chill that went down his spine was paralyzing, he thought that she knew. "I needed help, that's why I asked him." John replied, feeling the weight bear down on his shoulders as she eyed him. In the silence that followed his words, you could have heard a pin drop between them... at that point, he would have happily accepted a punch to the face, Heaven knows it was something he deserved.

The grief that had stricken her, turned into anger. "He told me that you were going to work the job together, but he never told me that you asked for his help." She started, the minor detail changing her perspective on what had happened that night. Though she knew the man standing in front of her wasn't to blame for the death of her husband; that Bill was the one who chose to help with the case, she couldn't help but feel that he was responsible for the tragic outcome of that hunt. Afterall, if John hadn't asked, Bill wouldn't have joined him. "What did you do with his body, do Joanna and I even have something left to bury?" She growled, struggling to keep her emotions in check.

John couldn't even look her in the eye anymore as he spoke, he knew his answer wouldn't be enough, nothing he could say would ever be. "I gave him a hunter's burial." He quietly replied.

"You didn't think of waiting to ask what I would have wanted?" Ellen snapped, her voice echoing into the empty night as the growling storm moved in.

"He was in pretty bad shape, I don't think he would have wanted you to..." He trailed off as she reached out to slap him across the face, something he saw coming but didn't bother to stop. She was angry and she had every right to be, that he could hear in her voice but she was also heartbroken, that he could see in her eyes.

"Don't you DARE tell me what you think my Billy would have wanted." She growled, her eyes narrowing on the man standing at her doorstep. "You don't know him like I do and if you wouldn't have..." She paused for a moment as she brought her hand up to her mouth, doing her best to keep herself together. "John I think you should go." She continued, her voice wavering slightly as she took a deep breath. "Before I say something I'm really going to regret."

He gave her a nod, knowing she would need much more than time to deal with the loss. "I gave a close friend of mine a call, told him that you might need someone else to talk to other than me... His name is Pastor Jim, not only is he a preacher but he's hunter too; said he'd be here by morning. I also made arrangements to have Bill's truck towed over, Bobby Singer should drop it off in a couple of days."

There was a moment of silence and Ellen couldn't help but regret the tone of her voice, she might have lost her husband, but John had also lost a dear friend that night... and not only had he witnessed it all, but he had driven hours-on-end just to break the devastating news to her. He was doing what he could just to avoid her eyes, she knew her doorstep was the last place he wanted to be, but there he was anyway. "Thank you." She replied, watching as he nervously fished the keys out of his pocket. Though she knew the anger she felt would continue to smolder for years to come, she also knew that it wasn't justified. What she was struggling to deal with, was her grief looking for someone to blame... and as long as that someone was standing right there in front her, she couldn't trust herself. "I'll see you around, John."

"Yeah, I'll see you around." John whispered, his gaze catching hers for only a moment before he turned to leave, no real intention of stepping foot in that bar ever again.

As he made his way back to the Impala, she knew it was the last she'd ever see of him. "Take care of yourself, you and your boys..." She called out, watching as he paused for only a moment before climbing in behind the wheel, doing so without giving her a second glance. Lighting lit up the sky and as the engine roared to life, all she could think about was the first time he pulled up to the Roadhouse. He was just another hunter with little more than the clothes on his back, looking for others that were hunting down what he was dying to get his hands on. He would have drifted in and out of their lives just as fast, but there was something about him that set him apart from the rest; something Bill saw that made him give John much more than just a chance. In no time they were like family, something she thought for sure would never change. Dust and dirt flew as the rear wheels dug into the ground and the Impala took off, its taillights vanishing into the night in a matter of only seconds; just like the friendship that had just slipped through her fingers.

John swallowed hard as the Roadhouse disappeared in the darkness behind him, the events of that night haunting him and the tone of her voice still ringing in his ears. The life of a hunter wasn't an easy one to live, but never did he think the hardest part of the job, would have nothing to do with the actual hunt. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he struggled to cope with the loss of his friend, and the friendship with Ellen, he knew wouldn't recover from such a tragedy. In a couple of hours, he'd be meeting up with his sons... she'd be breaking the devastating news to her daughter. With the thoughts that had made that eighteen hour drive a living Hell still circling in his head, he knew the next couple of hundred miles would be no different...

-Shugs


End file.
